


Red as Ruby Crystals

by iamtyping98



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Amica Endurae, Dating, Denial of Feelings, Dubious Science, Enemies to Lovers, Farce, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Idiots in Love, Implied Relationships, Light Angst, M/M, Magical Accidents, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Relationship Advice, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Starscream being Starscream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25128643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamtyping98/pseuds/iamtyping98
Summary: Megatron decides to give his personality destabilizer another shot, this time in the form of an easily transportable ray gun - what could go wrong?Well, Optimus Prime could get hit with the ray gun and suddenly fall in love with and start trying to aggressively pursue a very confused and flustered Megatron. That's what could go wrong.Edit: This fic is being postponed indefinitely.
Relationships: Megatron/Optimus Prime
Comments: 77
Kudos: 228





	1. This Was Not the Plan

**Author's Note:**

> I binge watched G1 and after seeing the episode where Megs uses a personality destabilizing device on the Autobots, I thought, "Man, you could get a lot of shenanigans out of a device like that." Thus my first Megop fic is born!
> 
> As you can tell it started out as a pretty cracky idea but it slowly developed into a whole thing and there might even be slight angst as we continue, as weird as that sounds. Hope everyone enjoys!
> 
> Credit to my wonderful beta, [Helpneedmorefanfics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helpneedmorefanfics/pseuds/Helpneedmorefanfics), aka [allabouttransformers](https://allabouttransformers.tumblr.com/)!

“Has anyone ever told you that your eyes are as red as the ruby crystals of Burma?”

Megatron slowly blinked aforementioned red-as-ruby crystal optics before reopening them and staring at Optimus Prime. Optimus Prime, who was currently holding the warlord horizontal to the ground in a position that some might describe as ‘dipping.’ Optimus Prime, who was staring at him very, _very_ intently, his own blue optics piercing into him even more than usual. 

This...was not exactly the result Megatron had expected.

When he’d decided to bring back his personality destabilizing device and work it into a ray gun, he’d expected any number of outcomes. It was difficult to predict what sort of result it would have in gun form, as it _would_ alter the victim’s coding, but the exact nature of the alteration was unpredictable thus far. Testing it on Skywarp had resulted in him going out of his processor for about five minutes, ripping up everything in sight and even kicking Thundercracker right in his modesty panel when the blue seeker tried to calm him down. The test he’d run on Bonecrusher had caused the mech to act much more mellow than usual, to the point that after a few hours it began to disturb his fellow constructicons. 

The problem seemed to be that, unlike when the personality destabilizer was inserted into the Autobot’s recharge chamber where it had time to properly infiltrate their coding completely, one shot from the ray gun could only target select lines of code for the brief amount of time it was in contact with a bot, and because it wasn’t fully inserted, the remote control aspects were out. Still, as far as creating a split second distraction it seemed effective enough, so Megatron had decided to bring it along on this latest mission to obtain energon. 

And as always, the Prime had come straight at him the second he and the Autobots appeared on the site, even yelling, “Megatron is mine!” as he transformed and came at him in a run. That was their way — the rest of their followers could attack each other in whatever combination they desired, but he and Prime would _always_ be each other’s opponents. Attracted like magnets, equal yet opposite forces of power that would always be drawn to each other. So, of course, when he found an opening in the fight, he’d used the destabilizer ray on Prime, excited to see what varied reaction he would receive. A sweet, mellow Optimus in the middle of a battle field would certainly be amusing. And if he flew into a violent rage, there was a chance Megatron could turn him on his Autobots! Those were some of the possibilities he had considered.

He had certainly not considered that Optimus Prime might freeze up, blink his optics a few times, and stare at Megatron as if he was looking at him for the first time. He had also not predicted that he might pull him close and dip him into this position while complimenting his optics in a rather... _sensual_ , almost purring voice. 

“Prime??”

“Megatron?”

Oh. That was _not_ the usual tone that Optimus used when saying his name, and hearing it uttered in such a way when their faces were this close was. Something. 

“What are you doing?” he snapped, trying to regain his composure. “Did that ray fry your neuro-circuits?”

“I don’t know about fried, but my circuits sure are heating up. _All_ of them.”

With that last phrase his vocalizer dropped even deeper than usual and Megatron couldn’t help but adjust his optics wider as he quickly realized just what this new effect was. 

After a bit of struggling he managed to wring himself from the Prime’s grip, but Optimus caught hold of his servo at the last second and pulled him closer again, wrapping his other arm around Megatron’s waist. Megatron responded by going for his face, punching him away, but Prime tilted his head at the last second and the blow glanced off. He then used the momentum to spin them around and suddenly Megatron was being pressed hard against one of the power plant’s electric towers. 

“What’s the matter, good lookin'? Ya got somewhere to be?”

In his shocked silence, he could hear Starscream screeching something from somewhere nearby, followed by some gruff shouting from one of Prime’s ‘Bots; likely Ironhide based on all the cursing. It seemed no one had yet noticed the turn their little scuffle had taken as they were too occupied with each other, which was unfortunate as Megatron was desperately looking for a way out. Normally grappling with the Prime was no issue, but also normally the Prime wasn’t looking at him as if he was a delicious swig of energon that he’d just found after being trapped in a barren wasteland.

In a way it was flattering, even if it was brought on by some random code manipulation; but this was also hardly the time or place!

“Prime, get a hold of yourself,” he snapped, struggling where Optimus was holding him by the wrists. “We’re in the middle of a battlefield.”

“I know. I don’t care though. Right now all I can look at is you.”

“If you don’t–! ...huh?”

He was still speaking in that same sensual tone, but where Megatron had thought it was just raw lust, there seemed to be something a bit more to it.

“Your optics. Your frame. Your strength. Why do you think I always go straight for you in battle? It’s so I can get close to you, to feel you in my arms. Just having the chance to be near you, to touch you, makes everything worth it. The most painful times in my functioning are when I have to wait for months to find out what your new plan is, because I spend the time not knowing when I’ll ever have the chance to look at your face plates again.”

Optimus was now touching his face, servo lightly resting on the side of his helm, thumb slowly stroking along the ridge of his cheek, and Megatron… Megatron could do nothing. For the first time in his functioning he was rendered speechless as he stared into the depths of Optimus’s bright blue optics, finding himself lost in the rumbling words rolling off the Prime’s tongue. 

“Sometimes I wish that we could just end all of this, or at least put it on hold for a moment. Anything that would let me be close to you without having to hurt you.”

Doing his best to rally his sense, Megatron sneered at him. “Oh what’s wrong? Do your sweet Autobot sensibilities really have such a problem with violence?”

He waited for the bait to be taken, but it wasn’t. Instead the look in those optics shifted slightly, still intense but now with something deep and raw inside them. 

“I can handle violence. But I don’t think anyone truly enjoys hurting someone they love.”

_Love._

“What?” Megatron asked, and if he’d in been in the right frame of processor he would have been embarrassed by how the word came out in a squeak. Instead all he could focus on was Optimus’s servo shifting around to the back of his helm, his face moving impossibly closer.

“I mean it,” came the soft murmur, and a small _click_ sounded and the Prime’s battle mask slid back. It was the first time Megatron had ever seen the lower half of his face. If he was being honest, he had fantasized from time to time about what it must look like, though said fantasies usually involved punching whatever perfect plating lay beneath the fortress of the mask.

The plating, however, was not perfect. Heavy scarring marred the left cheek, caused by a blaster if Megatron had to guess, and there was a diagonal slash through the lips that had healed to a pale, silvery color. The slash had left a divot in the metal, and soft lips bloomed out around the notch, smiling gently at the warlord.

“I love you, Megatron."

He was glitching. He had to be. That was why he was suddenly frozen up, holding motionless as Optimus slowly closed the centimeters wide gap that remained between them, gently urging Megatron’s helm toward him, and he could feel those soft lips just ghosting his own – 

_“WHAT THE FRAG ARE YOU DOING???”_

Megatron wasn’t sure if he wanted to shoot Starscream or get on his knees and thank him, because the shrill yell finally diverted Optimus’s attention, breaking their almost-kiss to look for the source of the noise. The Seeker was hovering a little ways away, mouth wide in a mixture of shock and disgust. Ironhide and Jazz were also nearby wearing similar expressions at the sight of their leader trying to liplock with the enemy warlord. 

Thankfully, Starscream’s outburst was also just what Megatron needed to finally snap out of it himself, and he took advantage of the pause to free a servo, slap it into the Prime’s face, and shove him as hard as he could. Optimus toppled backwards and a few kliks later Megatron was sprinting away, face plates burning hot as he shouted a hasty retreat and used his thrusters to take off and fly away from the entire situation. 

He was halfway to the base when Starscream finally caught up with him in jet mode and called, “Do you want to explain what _that_ was, o mighty leader?!”

“Shut up, Starscream!”

“Because if you’re suddenly going to start fragging Autobots, then I think it’s only appropriate that you step down and that I, Starscream, should become the new leader of the Decepti-”

_“SHUT UP, STARSCREAM!”_

Back on the ground, the Decepticons were gradually taking off after their commanders, leaving the Autobots to dust themselves off and look at one another in confusion. 

“I know the ‘Cons are a bunch of cowards, but why’d they just up and leave like that?” Bumblebee questioned, watching as the last of the retreating mechs faded out of view. 

“Doesn’t make sense to me,” Cliffjumper said with a shrug. “Maybe it was a diversion for something bigger? Hey, Optimus, what do you think-”

Cliffjumper paused mid-question when he turned around and caught visuals on their Prime. He was standing stock still, watching the horizon with a wistful, almost dreamy look in his optics, while Ironhide and Jazz were desperately trying to snap him out of whatever reverie he was in. At the sight, Ratchet made his way over to them.

“What’s happened?” the medic asked. “Something wrong, Prime?”

“Do you think I can follow him?” Optimus asked suddenly. “I know they’re in an underwater base these days but if I found a boat-”

“Don’t you dare!” Ironhide snapped. 

Jazz let out a sound that was half amused laughter, half scoff, before turning to Ratchet. “Oh, believe me my mech, something’s wrong alright, and you aren’t gonna _believe_ what it is.”

* * *

**(This lovely[fanart](https://baebeyza.tumblr.com/post/623649958050103296/baebeyza-fanart-of-the-oh-so-romantic-and-fun) was created by [Baebeyza](https://baebeyza.tumblr.com/)!!)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm already a good ways into writing Chapter 2 and I have an amazing beta, so it shouldn't take me too long to update - though the next chapter is already MUCH longer than this one.


	2. A Plethora of Autobot Suffering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Autobots are not happy about their Prime's new feelings and are doing their best to manage things, to...strange results. Also Carly gives Optimus dating advice because god, SOMEONE has to. 
> 
> Warning: One Ironhide was harmed in the writing of this chapter.

“IN LOVE??”

“Mhmm.”

“With. With Megatron?”

“Yep.”

“THE Megatron?”

“We were pretty horrified ourselves. Especially Ironhide...”

Bumblebee was about to say more when Ironhide stomped past him, grumbling lowly and looking like he might fight the next person who got too close to him.

“Fraggin’ cons think they can fraggin’ mess with our Prime like this, I’ll show them what…” 

Spike pressed a hand to his forehead before leaning back against the wall and slowly sinking to sit on the metal floor of  _ The Ark _ . “This-I mean you guys have had some crazy stuff happen, what with Megatron’s devices and aliens and all.”

“Oh, no kidding,” Bumblebee agreed. “There was that time where we got sent to that planet of giants, the time you got sent to the past, those metal alien plants, Optimus’s clone…”

“Like I said, crazy stuff,” Spike cut him off. He wasn’t trying to be rude, but if they sat there listing every wacky shenanigan the Autobots ever found themselves in, they’d be here all day. “But Optimus falling in love with  _ Megatron _ … That’s something else.”

“That’s an understatement,” Prowl groaned from nearby, helm resting in his servos. “And we’re pretty much positive this was Megatron’s doing, as this change in Optimus’s... _ mood _ didn’t start until after the two fought, and Jazz’s review of the energy plant’s surveillance shows that Megatron blasted him with some new device.”

“Yep,” Jazz concurred, currently playing back through the tapes on Teletraan 1. “Though I gotta say, if ol’ Megsy was planning on this change happening, he sure doesn’t show it. I’m looking here and the second Prime starts acting goofy, he looks pretty startled himself.”

The others gathered closer to get a better look at the screen and they saw that yes indeed, Megatron certainly did look as if he’d been taken off guard from the second the Prime had dipped him (which wasn’t something any of them had ever thought they’d say). 

“So you’re saying it’s possible Megatron didn’t mean for this to happen either?” Bumblebee questioned, tone slightly hopeful. If that was the case and it was all just an accident, that would actually be preferable. Megatron could be sadistic and cruel, but intentionally forcing anyone, much less the Autobot leader, to fall  _ in love _ with him would be a sickening new low. Especially when one considered the sort of advantages some might try to eke out of the situation...

“Hard to say,” Jazz replied. “Need more intel. In the meantime, here’s hoping the doc can set Prime’s processor straight.”

As if on cue, a loud crash came from the direction of the nearby repair bay, followed by a shout.

“OPTIMUS PRIME, YOU GET BACK HERE!”

“No thank you!”

Optimus came strolling into the command center, wires trailing behind him, looking happy as could be even with his battlemask up. Ratchet came sprinting in after him, Wheeljack on his heels, and quickly grabbed Prime by the arm trying to pull him back to the repair bay.

“Prime, this is serious. You need to let us work on you! We need to get a look at your code so we can try to–” 

“Nope!” Optimus’s voice was cheerful, even as he shook his arm free, his strength sending the medic careening backwards. Wheeljack managed to catch Ratchet just before he hit the floor, but that didn’t stop the red and white bot from griping.

“What do you mean  _ ‘Nope’ _ ??”

“I don’t want to!” 

“Prime, please, be good for the doc-bot and let him work on you,” Jazz urged. 

Optimus shook his helm, the corners around his optics crinkling in the way that meant he must be smiling under the mask. He then started tugging at the wires that were poking out of the medical ports on his arm, trying to unhook them. 

“Sorry, Jazz, I have more important things to do. Carly’s going to get some books to help me out and I need to be ready when she gets back.” 

Spike blinked in confusion. “Some books for what?”

“To help him practice his approach,” Carly replied as she came in with an armful of books. She dropped the stack on a nearby, human sized table and sorted through before handing one off to Optimus. The large mech sat down, carefully folding his legs to take up less room, and gingerly held the book in his massive digits. He laid it flat in one hand and very gently used one finger to open the book, holding it close to his face to try and read the tiny script. 

“That one’s called ‘Equity in Relationships.’ It’s all about making sure you and your partner are on equal footing, checking in, stuff like that. I figured that would be good for laying the groundwork, and then I’ll show you some on dating advice and you can practice asking him out.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Bumblebee interrupted Carly’s spiel, coming over to look at the stack of books. “What are you talking about Carl’? Ask who out?”

Carly shrugged. “Megatron, of course.”

At the sound of his enemy’s name, Optimus gave a dreamy sigh, which in turn caused several of the Autobots to feel as if they might be sick. All except Bumblebee who was staring at his human friend in shock.

“WHAT??”

(Thankfully Bumblebee’s outburst was loud enough to cover some much more colorful language from Ironhide.)

“That’s who he’s crushing on, right? I was watching the video feed with Jazz and I saw the way he just sort of jumped the guy and thought he could use some pointers.” Carly turned to Optimus and pointed an accusing finger at him. “Rule number 1: Don’t try to kiss people out of nowhere. It’s rude.”

Optimus tilted his helm to the side. “But doesn’t asking sort of take away some of the romance of it?”

“You haven’t even gone out with the guy yet, Optimus! Give it some time. Try taking him to dinner then see where it goes.”

The Prime nodded. “Dinner first. Got it.”

“What are you talking about?!” Ratchet asked, halfway between incredulous and angry. “We’re trying to figure out if there’s any way to cure him and you’re giving him  _ dating advice?? _ ”

Spike shook his head. “Sorry Carls, but I’m with Ratchet on this one. What’s the plan here exactly?”

Carly stepped away from Optimus for a second before saying, “Listen, I get where you’re coming from, but let’s be realistic about the situation — Optimus is a couple heads taller and twice the weight and firepower of most of you bots. He’s already refusing to cooperate with being repaired. If he decides he wants to leave to go see Mr. Big, Grey and Angry, there’s not much you can do to stop him. I figure this is at least better than him running off and going all Pep é le Pew on the guy and getting his head blown off with a fusion cannon.”

“Have you ever noticed the face Megatron makes when he fires his cannon?” Optimus suddenly cut in. “He’s got this little smile that’s just–”

“Okay, I get it,” Spike said.

“Hopefully it won’t come to that though,” Bumblebee quickly added. “I mean if Perceptor can invent a shrink ray, and Ratchet and Wheeljack can make the Dinobots, then surely this is doable.”

“And you’re not going  _ anywhere  _ like this,” Ratchet griped. The medic was jabbing a wrench in Optimus’s direction in a threatening manner. “Not until we get you back to normal.”

“I told you, I don’t want you to work on me,” said Optimus, not looking up from the tiny book he was looking through. “I don’t want to change. I like this feeling.”

“Considering that you’re currently under the influence of Decepticon coding, I’m not  _ quite  _ inclined to believe you. Now will you just–”

Wheeljack rested a servo on the medic’s shoulder to try and calm him down, before moving to unhook the medical wires that Optimus was still attached to. “Let’s give him a break Ratch, we don’t want him getting upset. That scan you got should be enough for us to work with for now. The others can keep him nice and happy while we go talk to Percy and see what we can do.”

Ratchet sighed, but his partner’s comfort seemed to do the trick, as he gave a morose nod. “Alright. But,” he turned to the others, “you lot need to make sure to keep him here! No telling what’ll happen if he decides to leave.”

“I can hear you,” Optimus reminded him.

“Then listen to your doctor and  _ stay put! _ ” 

Optimus just hummed happily to himself as Ratchet stormed out of the room, nearly colliding with a still-dazed Ironhide on his way out. He knew everyone around him seemed to be upset, but he couldn’t quite figure out why. It seemed to have something to do with his feelings for Megatron...and in a way that made sense. After all they’d been fighting for millions of years now. 

But honestly, why  _ had  _ they been fighting for that long? Why hadn’t they ever tried to work out peace agreements? At this point he was willing to do anything to stop the fighting if it meant that he could be closer to Megatron. 

How long had he gone holding back this emotion, trying to deny the way energon raced through his lines when he looked at the silver mech? The way he got charged up fighting him? How his spark spun whenever they had a chance to work together for once… No, no, Ratchet was wrong. This feeling wasn’t an illness! It was a gift. Sweet, blissful insight that had been locked away for so long. He was in love with Megatron, and he wasn’t going to let anyone change that. Now if only he could find a way to get Megatron to see that he felt the same way… 

Because he did, Optimus was quite sure of it. He’d seen and felt Megatron’s reactions earlier that day. There’d been confusion and hesitance, but there was more to it than that. A sort of yearning and perhaps...just a bit of fear? The silver mech would never admit to that, but he didn’t need to, Optimus could see it well enough himself and couldn’t blame him. In fact, perhaps that was why it had taken him so long to realize the depth of his feelings — fear of the resulting backlash. And based on the reactions of the others, that fear hadn’t been unfounded.

But his fear was gone now, replaced with nothing but adoration, and he was going to grab hold and use it! 

But how to use it? What was the most effective way to court one’s lifelong enemy turned potential lover? In the context of the war, if he was trying to get Megatron on his side he might put up a peace offering. Yes, a gift would be good, something Megatron would like.

“Carly?” Optimus asked, interrupting the teenager from the argument she was having with Ironhide (“OVER MY GRAY FRAME YOU’LL SET THEM UP WITH EACH OTHER!”). 

“Yeah Optimus?”

“Do you have any books about poetry?” 

* * *

The second they got back to the seabase, Megatron made a beeline for his quarters, not stopping to listen to any more of Starscream’s continued not-so-good-natured teasing. When he reached his room he detached his fusion cannon and tucked it safely away, before pulling the damnable ray gun from his subspace and hurling it at the wall. 

_ Fragging thing, getting him in this situation, humiliating him in front of both factions… _ If he believed in Primus, he would have cursed the slagger for putting him in this miserable situation. Frag it, he’d curse him anyway! A nice reprieve from the cursing he’d been directing towards himself and the Prime on the trip back. 

Worn out and still horrifically flustered from the ordeal, he stomped into the wash racks, hoping a good hour or two under cold solvent would clear things up. 

He switched on the faucet and shuddered slightly as the chill hit him, before growing used to the sensation and allowing his helm to  _ clunk  _ against the wall. The whole flight back he’d been focusing on his indignation, his anger, but now that he was allowing himself to calm down somewhat, his processor drifted back to realizing just how close he had come to actually letting the Autobot  _ kiss  _ him.

He half consciously raised a servo and touched the place where he had felt those perfectly imperfect lips brush against his own. He found himself wondering what it would have felt like if Optimus had continued, if the kiss had been proper, had been deeper. If he’d had the chance to learn what that scarred divot felt like against his own lips, the chance to map the plane of his scarred cheek plates. 

A twinge of regret ran through him as he realized he would never have that chance now, as the coding could be expected to wear off soon. 

Megatron shuddered away from the feeling, gripping his servo into a fist, and tilted his helm back to let the solvent blast cold against his face, washing away any of the lingering sensations that plagued him.

* * *

“Okay Optimus, remember what I told you.” 

Optimus nodded and then looked over to Prowl who was sitting across from him, frowning deeply.

“Why’d I get stuck doing this?” the security officer groused.

“‘Cuz most of the other bots are out or busy, Ironhide’s too mad to sit still, Bumbles and Spike are too small to make it realistic, Carly’s coaching, and  _ I’m _ busy providing mood music.” Jazz flashed his friend a grin from where he sat nearby, some easy listening pouring from his speakers.

“What about the twins??”

“We’re just here to watch,” Sunstreaker replied from where he was sitting next to Bumblebee, sharing a container of rust chips with Sideswipe. “We like a good show.”

Prowl let out an irritated grunt and crossed his arms over his chassis, glaring at his Prime. Optimus might be his friend, but that didn’t mean he was going to pretend to enjoy this nonsense. Fortunately, the grumpy demeanor worked rather well for the role he was playing. The others’ snickering certainly didn’t help. 

“If we could have some quiet on the set?” Carly gave the hecklers a pointed glare, and they settled down somewhat. “Good. Go ahead, Optimus.”

The Prime cleared his vocalizer and looked at Prowl for a moment before saying, “Hello Megatron!”

The snickering started again, a bit quieter this time, but not quiet enough that Prowl could ignore it.

“Hi,” he ground out.

“It’s a nice day, don’t you think?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m too busy plotting to murder you and your Autobot brethren to appreciate the weather.”

Optimus turned to Carly. “Maybe we should try a different ice breaker?”

“We’ll worry about that later,” she said with a flap of her hand. “For now get to the actual asking. And Prowl, try to play a little more to Megatron’s charismatic side.”

“Yeah, come on Prowler, get into it,” Jazz urged. “How often do we get acting opportunities around these parts?” 

Prowl grumbled a bit more, but managed to say, “What do you want  _ Prime? _ ” in his best Megatron impersonation. It seemed to do the trick as Optimus perked up a bit.

“Well, I brought you some flowers. They’re a customary gift amongst humans.”

Optimus handed Prowl the fake bouquet made of spare wires and bits of rebar. Prowl took and gave it a look of disgust.

“Organic garbage. How  _ lovely, _ ” he drawled, before tossing it to the side. 

Jazz caught the bouquet and gave a pleased noise as he admired it.

“I also brought you a datapad with some Earthen poetry on it,” Optimus continued, holding out the datapad in question. Prowl-as-Megatron took it and flipped the book around a little before sneering again.

“Foolish of you to think I would enjoy anything written by one of these fleshlings. As if I’d ever subject my superior processor to this drivel. I’d much rather spend the evening doing something productive like torturing Starscream.”

“Wouldn’t we all?” Sideswipe called, earning himself a few laughs. 

Prowl tossed the datapad away as well and resumed crossing his arms and looking derisive. 

“Well Prime, is there a point to all of this, or did you call me here just to waste my time with this nonsense?”

Optimus clenched his hands into eager fists in his lap before saying, in a very excited tone, “Actually, I wanted to ask if you would go on a date with me!”

The Prime glanced down at Carly who gave him a thumb’s up.

Prowl tapped a finger against his chin. 

“Hm, let me think about tha- NO!”

The Prime’s optics widened in surprise before cycling back down, his finials drooping sadly. Carly cleared her throat and glared up at Prowl, and the security officer would be lying if he said he wasn’t slightly intimidated by her.

With a sigh, he back-pedaled and gave his best Megatron-esque sneer. “And why would I do that, Autobot?”

Optimus perked up a bit, seeing they were starting over. “Because I like you, and I think you might like me too, if you gave me the chance.”

“Hmph. As if I could  _ ever _ stand to be romantically linked with someone from your faction, or anyone for that matter.” Prowl had to admit, he was getting more into the part, even throwing in some gesticulations. “The only things I love are power and destruction!”

“And the sound of your own voice!” Bumblebee called.

“Don’t forget evil laughter,” Spike chipped in.

“Ah yes, those too. In comparison, you’re just a nuisance Prime. A sentimental nuisance who I greatly look forward to offlining one day.”

Optimus looked down, clearly stumped on how to continue, and Prowl felt a small glimmer of pride, thinking this might be over soon. But as always, the Prime surprised them all with his fierce determination, and reached out to take Prowl’s servo in his own larger one.

“I know you say that. Maybe part of you even means it. But Megatron listen — really listen for once. I know that this is nerve wracking though, dating the enemy and all, but think of our history together. Think of how well we know each other. I respect you and I know you respect me too. Think of all those moments where we’ve caught each other’s gaze, those times when we’ve worked together. After all of these millions of years between us, can you truly say that there’s not one piece of your spark that feels there could be...more?”

Prowl opened his mouth. Then shut it. He did this a few more times, trying to form words, and for once the audience gave no feedback (save for Sideswipe and Sunstreaker loudly munching their chips), all of them just sitting there suddenly enraptured. None of them had expected something that intense out of this little charade. 

So it was a welcome break when footsteps came clanking down the hall and Ironhide burst into the room. He’d stormed off a while ago after Carly refused to back down on the dating advice strategy, so his sudden reappearance came as a surprise, particularly when he ran up to their leader and pointed an accusatory digit in his face.

“ELITA ONE!” 

This outburst, spoken with such confidence and surety, was met with much confused staring from the others. While they were trying to figure out what Ironhide was talking about, he looked around at the scene in front of him.

“The frag are y’all doin’?”

“Don’t ask,” Prowl replied, pulling his servo from Optimus’s grasp. “Now what were you saying?”

“Oh, right. Elita One! She’s the answer to all this!” Ironhide pointed in Optimus’s face once more as he repeated the name. “Remember _her_ , Prime, or is your processor too fried with that damn Decepticon coding?”

Optimus tilted his helm to the side. “Elita?”

Ironhide nodded slowly, as if he was talking to a complete idiot. “Yeah Prime. Remember? Your  _ girlfriend? _ ”

“Girlfriend??” Carly exclaimed from the floor. 

Finally, realization kicked in and Optimus’s optics cycled to their widest setting as he let out a small gasp. “Elita!”

“There ya go,” Ironhide chuckled happily. “Knew that would work the second I thought of it!”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Carly cut in while Optimus was still in shock. “What do you mean  _ girlfriend _ ? Since when does Optimus have a girlfriend?”

“Oh he and Elita go way back,” Bumblebee answered for her. “But honestly? I didn’t know they were still together. I mean it’s not like they can visit much since she’s back on Cybertron.”

Ironhide shook a fist in Bee’s direction. “Details! True love can last across time and space!”

“True that, my mech,” said Jazz, “but as much as I love Love, I have to say Prime sure doesn't talk about her much these days. I can’t even remember the last time he called her on Teletraan.”

The twins were bobbing their helms in agreement at all of this and Ironhide was clearly getting frustrated. 

“Listen, who cares! The important thing is that Prime already has someone to love, and now that he remembers, he can focus on that and leave all this Megatron nonsense to the side until he can be completely fixed. How’s that for a patch job?”

The others gave a mixture of nods and shrugs, except Carly who looked completely skeptical.

“So he doesn’t call her, never talks to or about her, they hardly ever see each other… Doesn’t sound like the most stable relationship. If it’s a relationship at all.”

Ironhide scoffed. “You humans wouldn’t get it. Cybertronians can live for eons, and relationships can go through different spells during that time. Just because they’re apart doesn’t mean they aren’t still together in their sparks. Love’s a strong thing, and nothing in your little books can teach someone how to feel it." 

The old warmech was giving Carly a rather smug look when he was interrupted by Teletraan clicking on. He and the others looked to see that Optimus had hopped up without their noticing and was now at the control panel, fiercely hitting various buttons.

“Teletraan 1, connect me to the Autobot base on Cybertron. I must speak with Elita One immediately.”

Optimus had a serious look about him, optics set and determined, like a mech on a mission.

“Ya see?” Ironhide gestured to their leader, chassis lifting with pride. “That’s our Prime! Callin’ up his old gal to tell her how much he–”

“Hello, Elita? I know this is very sudden, but I think we should break up.” 

Several jaws dropped and Ironhide’s neck cables squealed with the speed that he whipped his helm around. Elita One’s pink face was filling Teletraan’s screen, looking surprised at the sudden announcement.

Surprised, but not entirely displeased.

“Oh my, that  _ is _ sudden! When I saw you were calling, I thought you might be in trouble and need help on Earth.”

Optimus shook his helm. “No Elita, nothing like that. It’s just about our personal relationship. I know we’ve been together for many, many years but truthfully it feels as if we’ve been growing apart for some time.”

Ironhide watched in horror as the femme bot nodded at that. “I have to say Optimus, I do agree. I was so happy to see you the last time you visited Cybertron — so happy to see you alive! But it certainly did feel different. I do love you, but…”

“It’s not the same kind of love anymore?” Optimus offered and Elita gave a small smile in return. 

“Yes, exactly. Truth be told, I’ve been contemplating calling you and saying these very things for a while now. You see...oh please don’t be angry with me, but Chromia and I have grown rather close…”

“CHROMIA??” Ironhide yelled, startling everyone but the two on the call.

“I completely understand!” Optimus exclaimed. “I’ve met someone myself.”

“Oh Optimus, that’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you.”

“And I’m happy for you!”

“Chromia?” Ironhide had sunken halfway to his knees at this point, looking like he might faint, and Sunstreaker and Sideswipe moved to offer him support. 

“So I guess this is it for us, huh?” Elita’s tone was bittersweet, but she was still smiling gently, indicating that it was more sweet than bitter.

“I suppose so. I hope things go well with you and Chromia!”

_ “Chromia……”  _ Ironhide let out a whining exvent as he sank completely to the floor, the twins awkwardly patting his back to try to offer comfort over the news about his (apparently now ex) girlfriend.

“Oh thank you Optimus! And just who is this new bot you’re interested in?”

Optimus beamed happily from behind his mask as he said, “Megatron!” 

Elita’s smile slipped into a look of abject confusion as she tried to process if that was what she’d actually just heard.

“Wait a minute, what-”

“Well gotta go, it’s getting late and I need to call him before he goes into recharge. Bye!”

The call clicked off and Elita sat back, blinking her optics.

“M...Megatron??”

“What about Megatron?” Chromia asked, sidling up to the console. “The old slag-maker wreaking havoc again?”

Elita shook her helm. “Well, the good news is that I finally told Optimus about us.”

“Oh yay! I guess I should probably do the same with Ironhide. I mean he and I were never  _ official _ , but still.”

“You might want to do that quickly… But anyway, Optimus then told me that he’s seeing someone new, and when I asked who it was he said–”

“MEGATRON?” 

“Yes!”

The blue femme shook her helm, incredulous. “Yeesh. Well, there’s no accounting for taste...but wait, what does this mean about the war? Could this be why Shockwave’s seemed more quiet lately? Are they calling a truce or something?”

Elita shrugged before getting to her pedes and putting an arm around her lover’s waist.

“I guess we’ll have to find out!”

Back on Earth, Optimus happily clicked off the call, before starting a second one. 

“Teletraan 1, please contact the Decepticon seabase.”

Optimus looked over his shoulder and said, “Thank you for reminding me about Elita, Ironhide. That certainly could have grown awkward if I’d tried to pursue Megatron while we were still together. Now I’m free to ask him out, and she and Chromia can be together as well!”

Ironhide let out a choking sob from where he was curled up on the floor.

Optimus turned back to the screen, bouncing on his pedes in excitement that he’d soon get to see the face of the one he so loved and hoped to soon make his.

But instead of his beloved’s silver countenance filling the screen, he was instead treated to Starscream’s sneering face. Optimus frowned behind his mask.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Lover Bot himself.” The Seeker’s mocking tone grated on Optimus’s audials. “I managed to glean what happened between you and Megatron earlier, and I must say the lot of us were  _ terribly  _ amused. Whoever would have known that the Autobot leader had such a predilection for Decepticons?”

“Guess we better be careful in battle from now on,” Thundercracker piped up from beside his trine leader. “Never know if Prime and his ‘Bots might suddenly decide to get all hot and heavy on us handsome mechs.”

“Hey!” Bumblebee cried, indignant.

Skywarp ducked his helm into view of the screen. “Although of course none of us quite have the same ‘ruby crystal optics’ that old Megsy does.”

The three flight frames burst into shrill laughter at their own teasing while Optimus just stared on, not making a motion to defend himself. Jazz moved to turn the call off and save their Prime and the rest of their faction from any more embarrassment, but Optimus pushed his servos away with ease. 

Optimus then raised the volume of his vocalizer and said, “I don’t mean to interrupt, but is Megatron around? I need to speak to him right away.”

Starscream sobered up from his laughter and fixed Optimus with a condescending look.

“Oh? Let me guess, you’ve gotten to your senses and now you want to  _ apologize  _ for earlier? Is your sense of honour really so over-inflated, Prime?” 

“Not exactly,” Optimus replied. “While I do want to apologize, there’s something even more important that I want to–”

“HEY PRIME!” Jazz loudly interrupted. “Maybe you wanna keep that to yourself??”

“Yeah, let’s wait ‘til later!” Bumblebee agreed while trying fruitlessly to push Optimus away from the screen.

“But one of Carly’s books said that it’s a good idea to ask their friends what they like and if they’re single, and I know Starscream isn’t his friend exactly, but they do know each other pretty well so maybe he’ll know what I should–”

“Megatron’s obviously occupied with other things, let’s just leave him and the ‘Cons to it,” Prowl cut into the ramble, going for Teletraan’s controls. Optimus caught him at it though and idly smacked his servos the way one might swat a fly. 

“No! I want to talk to him now. I can’t wait any longer!”

“Prime, please,” Prowl begged, getting desperate as he glanced back and forth between Optimus and the screen filled with curious Seekers. “Don’t. Damn it, where’s Ratchet when you need him. Ironhide, help us out, he listens to you!”

A mournful sound came from the heap where Ironhide was still on the floor and Sunstreaker shook his helm at Prowl while Sideswipe patted the red mech’s back and said, “Come on old timer, let’s get you a drink, a little high-grade fixes everything.”

“Don’t get him drunk, that’ll make it worse!” Carly protested.

“I don’t think we need any more of  _ your  _ advice,” Spike grumbled.

“Hey, it’s not my fault he got dumped.”

_ “Chromiaaaaaa...”  
_

“What in the Pit’s going on over there?” asked Thundercracker.

“I wish I knew,” Prowl groaned.

“Listen, this is all very amusing, but if I wanted to watch a bunch of idiots fumbling around I’d just tune into Earthen television.” Starscream faked a yawn. “Just spit out whatever it is and stop wasting my valuable time.”

“It’s not like you’re doing anything else right now,” Skywarp mumbled, earning himself a smack.

“Right, well, y’all have a nice evening or whatever,” Jazz rushed to say, “we’re just going to–”

“Can you please get Megatron?” Optimus asked, clasping his hands in front of him in a prayer position. “I want to talk to him so badly! I need to tell him how I feel!”

The Autobots collectively flinched, and Sunstreaker and Sideswipe quickly shuffled Ironhide out of the room before the old mech could absorb what was going on. On Teletraan’s screen, all three of the Seekers were holding stock still. 

Starscream  _ slowly  _ cocked his helm to the side.

“How you... _ feel? _ ”

“Yes!” Optimus leaned closer to the screen, trailing the Autobots who were trying to hold him back with him. “I love him! I want to ask him to be with me!”

This announcement was met by confusion and disbelief from Skywarp and Thundercracker, but their leader stood still, soaking in the impassioned statement while the Autobots cringed with second-hand embarrassment.

Then a grin slowly spread its way across Starscream’s faceplates, dentae on full display. The expression was frighteningly reminiscent of the look a turbofox might wear when it came upon a warren of frightened petro rabbits. 

“... _ Do you, now?” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry Ironhide, but I love Chromlita, it had to be done. Perhaps he'll love again some day. Also no offense to Oplita shippers but what were the show writers thinking? You just suddenly introduce Optimus's girlfriend in an episode in Season 2 and make her actually a neat character and then just NEVER mention her again, no closure no nothing? Not on my watch!
> 
> Sorry for the lack of Megatron and megop interactions in this chapter, but I had a LOT of ideas for different shenanigans and wanted to get them all out. Hope it was enjoyable nonetheless, and there will be plenty more nonsense to come between the two love bots! Also Starscream trying to be a pimp.


	3. Incentives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sudden onset plot occurs!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I genuinely never meant for this chapter to be so godawful long; I had my starting point and my ending point I wanted to get to, I just needed to fill in the middle. Unfortunately the middle took up like 20 pages. Oh well, more bang for your buck, right? I hope so!

Megatron let out a slow exvent as he turned off the spray and stepped out of the washracks to begin drying himself. He rotated his helm a bit and stretched his arms, allowing cables and joints to shift and settle back into place. He still wasn’t completely calm, but then again, he hardly ever was. 

Metallic footsteps told him someone had entered his suite, and he poked his helm out of the washracks to see Soundwave was there, holding an energon cube in one servo with Laserbeak perched on his opposite shoulder. 

“Soundwave: brought evening fuel. Lord Megatron: likely tired.”

“Not tired,” he replied with a shake of his helm, tossing his drying rag to the side to deal with later. “Just...irritated.”

He stepped forward and took the proffered cube, giving Soundwave an appreciative nod before he took a sip. Laserbeak hopped from his master’s shoulder to Megatron’s and gave the warlord a friendly nuzzle with his beak. Using his free servo, Megatron gave the little black head a rub in return.

“What all did you hear?” Megatron asked his friend, optics wary.

“Megatron: utilized destabilizing ray. Optimus Prime: displayed amorous intent.”

He groaned in the back of his intake and lowered himself to sit on the edge of his berth. Megatron continued petting Laserbeak, finding the repetitive stroking soothed both himself and the cassette.

“I just stood there like a fool. I didn’t know what to do! It was humiliating, Soundwave.”

Soundwave gave a nod and sat down next to his old friend.

“Megatron: was overwhelmed.”

“Exactly. It was...it was _Prime_.”

Soundwave emitted a low note, his version of an understanding hum. 

Megatron sighed and pressed his face into his servos. “Why didn’t I just fight him off? Or try to use it to my advantage? There were opportunities, but he just started saying these things about how he thinks I’m _attractive,_ and _complimenting_ me and just… Soundwave, he said he _loved_ me!” He whipped his helm to the side to look his friend in the visor. “What in the Pits am I supposed to say to _that_??”

Soundwave considered for a moment, before saying, “Love this. Pow,” and miming punching someone. 

Megatron gave a small, tired chuckle at that. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” 

Laserbeak, satisfied that the warlord was in an improved mood, hopped off his shoulder and folded up into cassette mode, allowing Soundwave to place him in his deck to recharge for the night. Soundwave counted his cassettes and saw that Ravage, Rumble, and Frenzy were absent, and made a note to comm them if they stayed out much longer. Megatron smiled at the familiar routine, and the two sat next to each other in comfortable silence for a while. 

“You know,” Megatron sighed then, looking wistfully into his cube of energon, “I wonder if it’s my own fault. I remember having quite a few suitors at one point, but I always rejected them because I was so focused on the war effort. Now look at me — I’m old and rusty. So out of practice that just a little flirtation from my enemy and his warped processor knocks me completely off center.”

“Not rusty,” Soundwave countered. “Megatron: is well polished.”

The warlord smiled and elbowed his friend lightly, and received an equally friendly elbowing in return.

“Have I mentioned lately that I’m glad you’re my amica?”

“Mention: too infrequent. Megatron: lost without Soundwave.”

“Well, I certainly can’t argue with that. Now, come on.” Megatron stood up and stretched out, relaxing his back strut, before taking another sip of energon and sighing. “I’ve had enough moping around. Let’s get out there — I’ll strike a little fear into the sparks of my followers, come up with a new plot to destroy the Autobots, probably yell at Starscream a bit, and then call it a day well spent.”

“Approved.”

Just as Soundwave finished his statement, a small _click_ sounded, just loud enough to catch both of their attentions. The noise was followed by a series of more clicks and a slight, metallic rustling. Megatron’s audials and optics followed the sound to the grate overhead that connected to the heating ducts. He shared a glance with Soundwave before taking out and reattaching his fusion cannon — just in case it wasn't who they thought it was. The communications officer gave an almost imperceptible nod before quickly reaching up and wrenching the grate free.

“AAAAAAH!”

A small cry rang out as Rumble fell into the room. Soundwave quickly reached out and caught his cassette before he could crash to the ground, and then turned him around to face them. 

Rumble offered them a nervous smile. “Oh. Um. Hiya Megs. Hi Moms. How’s it hangin?” 

Skipping over the odd nicknames (the cassettes were often picking up strange phrases from human television), Megatron glared at the little cassette. He then noticed that Rumble was holding a camera which was too big for a mech his size and bore a Decepticon insignia — Reflector.

“What are you two doing, sneaking around?” 

“Nothin,” Rumble lied. Reflector remained silent in his alt mode, apparently not wanting to get further involved.

“Rumble, Reflector: Spying,” Soundwave assessed.

“Okay, okay, yeah, but it’s not _really_ spying!” Rumble held up the camera. “He just wanted us to take some pictures is all!”

Megatron quirked an optic ridge.

“Who? And what sort of pictures?”

“Starscream,” Rumble replied. “He asked us to take some pictures of you for his new business. Said they needed to be ‘can did’, and offered me Energon candy so I said ‘Can _do!_ ’” 

“Rumble: does not need extra sweets,” Soundwave chastised, to the smaller mech’s dismay. 

“I’ll be honest,” Reflector spoke up as the two started arguing, “I’m just here because I was bored.”

Megatron narrowed his gaze, suspicion and worry welling in his tanks. He raised a hand to quiet the chatter and asked, “What sort of ‘business’ is Starscream running that he needs you to take candid pictures of me?”

Rumble shrugged. “I dunno, I don’t really get it. Something about giving them to the Autobots in exchange for energon and shanix, I guess.”

At that, a ping of alarm went off in Megatron’s processor.

“Autobots??”

“Yeah. Said he’d pay me extra if they were sexy.”

Oh.

Oh _no._

Megatron crumpled his now empty cube and tossed it to the side. He then snatched Reflector out of Rumble’s little servos and stormed out of his suite, headed for the control room, Soundwave close on his heels. His circuits ran hot with a mixture of worry and rising anger, and he had the feeling he’d be doing more than just a bit of yelling tonight. As he neared the bridge, he saw Dirge and Ramjet standing near the doorway, and their optics widened at the sight of him. 

Look outs.

He glared furiously at the pair, and if they were going to comm the control room’s occupants before, they seemed to think better of it, dipping their cone-shaped heads towards him in deference. The warlord stormed past them into the main room and looked around at the sight that greeted him.

Scrapper and the Constructicons were crowded around a table, drawing out plans for something, with a great deal of arguing involved. Thundercracker was sitting on the floor near the main monitor screen in the center of the far wall, furiously writing something in a datapad. Skywarp was standing near him and also jotting notes in a datapad, but going at a more leisurely pace. And then, the mastermind of whatever this chaos was, Starscream, was talking to someone on the monitor while using a metal stick to point at a presentation board.

“Now, you’ll see our price rates listed here,” the traitorous red flight frame was saying. “What you’re asking for can be done, but will be rather costly for everyone involved, with short-term benefit to yourself. I suggest either starting with some of the lower tiered plans and working your way up, or going full haul and buying the full package right away.”

“Is all of this really necessary?” a voice asked, that sounded rather like the Autobots’ Second in Command, Prowl.

Starscream shrugged. “I mean, if you’d rather just hang up and forgo the chance of seeing Megatron altogether…”

“No don’t! Starscream, please, I’ll pay whatever you want! I just want to talk to him!”

 _Oh sweet Unicron._ Megatron shuddered at the voice coming from the communications monitor. He couldn’t see the screen well from this angle, but he didn’t need to; he’d be able to pick that vocalizer out of the cacophony of thousands.

Which begged the question of _what was his lieutenant doing on a video comm with Optimus Prime_ **_without_ ** _his knowledge??_

By now, the Constructicons and the other Seekers had noticed their leader’s arrival and all looked like they had been caught red-servoed, some frozen, others trying to subtly hide the datapads from his sight. He’d deal with them later. He had a more specific focus for his wrath right now.

“STARSCREAM, _WHAT ARE YOU DOING_??”

The jet let out a shrill scream and dropped his pointer stick, whipping around to look at him. Starscream’s faceplates portrayed no guilt, only looking startled. 

For about two klicks. He quickly calmed down after the voice coming from the screen said, eagerly, “Is that him? I heard him! Starscream, call him over, please!”

At the sound, Megatron felt himself cringing; it had been hours now since the ray gun’s usage, and Prime was likely back to his old self, and frankly he was really not in the mood to hash things out with the mech. As he grimaced at the very thought, a mean grin was simultaneously spreading over Starscream’s face plates.

“Oh Lord Megatron~!” Starscream singsonged, waving him over. “You have a gentlemech caller!”

Well that was a weird way to put it. Not in the mood for whatever nonsense his second was up to, the grey mech snarled at his teasing and stomped over. 

“Why wasn’t I informed sooner that the Autobots were on the line? And tell me, just what is the meaning of _this_?” He punctuated the question by holding up Reflector and gesturing over his shoulder to where Soundwave was cradling Rumble in the crook of his arm.

“I’ll tell you later,” Starscream stage whispered, taking Reflector from him. “In the meantime, play along; trust me, you’re going to love this!”

Trust him? Trust _Starscream?_

He was about to give a biting retort about the ridiculousness of that statement when he reached the monitor screen and looked up to see that, as expected, Prime was there, with a few of his subordinates crowded close to him. Extremely close to him. In fact, they seemed to be trying to reach for the control panel on their own communications system, but Optimus was preventing them from doing so with pushes of his much larger servos. Megatron watched with slight amusement as the Prime caught Bumblebee in the midst of trying to press a button and lifted the minibot off the floor, tucking him under his arm. The yellow bot kicked and waved his arms in protest, but Optimus ignored him as he was busy taking notice of Megatron’s arrival. 

Blue optics spun wide and lit up brighter than usual and if Megatron didn’t know better he’d think the Prime was frozen.

Ready to be done with whatever this was, Megatron pushed Starscream over slightly, ignoring the jet’s complaints and fixed the screen with a look of derision. 

“What do you want Prime? Have you not filled your harassment quota for the day?”

“I’m so sorry,” Optimus said automatically. 

“Hmph,” Megatron grunted. “Whatever. I blasted you, you sexually harassed me. For now we’ll call it even. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

Before he could press the button to hang up, Optimus slammed himself against his side of the screen, causing Megatron and a few others to jump.

“NO, PLEASE! I waited hours just to call and then Starscream wouldn’t let me see you! Please, don’t leave just yet!”

Megatron felt that earlier sense of worry swelling up again and reset his vocalizer to try and relax. The way Prime was talking...surely it had been long enough by now for the effect to wear off, surely he wasn’t still–

“What do you want?” he snapped, putting as much vitriol into it as he could muster.

The Prime stared at him, silent for a second. Then his optics shuttered halfway and his vocalizer dropped, his tone dripping like honey as he replied:

“You.”

He should have laughed. Or turned the monitor off. Or blasted it with his cannon. But instead his jaw dropped slightly and he stood there looking like a speechless idiot once more, listening to the nearby snickers of Skywarp and a few of the Constructicons. To Megatron’s credit, having the full force of Optimus Prime crooning at you from a wide screen was rather difficult to deal with. A lesser mech might have crashed by now!

A malicious giggle broke him out of his stunned (and slightly mortified) trance. He glanced at Starscream, who looked more delighted than Megatron had seen him in centuries. 

“Isn’t it brilliant?” the jet whispered at him. “The effects are still going strong!”

“But how?!” He hissed back. It had never lasted this long! Their longest test had been Bonecrusher, and his effects had worn off after two hours! The elapsed time since he’d shot the Prime was now double that, and the subject was still exhibiting extreme effects. HOW?

Because, he realized, he was Megatron and nothing in his functioning life could _ever_ go smoothly. _EVER_.

“Megatron!” The warlord looked up to see Prowl wedging his head underneath the Prime’s arm so he could get a look at the screen. “If I ever get my servos on you, I’ll rip your optics out for this!”

“Do you think this was my intention?” Megatron snapped back. But the security officer wasn’t able to respond, as Optimus was pushing him away. To do so, he had to drop Bumblebee, who knocked into Jazz as he fell. Megatron heard a loud clang as the two hit the metallic floor.

“Stop it Prowl,” the Prime demanded. “You’re my friend, but I’ll do what I must to defend my love’s honor!”

 _Love?_ Not that word...he couldn’t take that word again! 

“Oh shut up!” Prowl argued. “You don’t love him!”

“Yes I do! You can’t stop me!”

To Megatron’s audials, it sounded like his Decepticons were about to die of laughter. All but Soundwave, who he could feel cringing just as much as he was.

“Love is such a beautiful thing,” a loud, drunken sounding voice yelled from behind Optimus. “Beautiful but fleeting!”

At the declaration, Prowl groaned and stomped away. Megatron could hear him saying, “The frag were you two thinking giving him this much? Ironhide, go to berth already!”

Whatever that was about, Optimus ignored it in favor of staring at him some more. 

“What I wouldn’t give to hold you right now…” he murmured, that same warmth in his tone that left Megatron unable to process straight.

This was all getting to be too much.

“Go away, Prime!” the silver mech yelled at the screen, trying to ignore the heat in his face plates. Naturally Optimus only made it worse by continuing to smile at him from behind his mask.

“Now, now Megatron,” Starscream interjected. “Let’s not be so hasty as to hang up! Prime’s already been generous enough to agree to give us some energon, so I think he’s earned a few minutes worth of conversation, don’t you?”

Megatron rounded on the Seeker and barked, “I’m going to kill you later!”

A dreamy sigh came from the monitor and Megatron looked up in time for Optimus to say,“You’re beautiful when you’re on a rampage.”

The warlord felt his vocalizer hitch, as if he was choking on something. Oh, he was going to _shoot_ him the next time he saw him in the metal. One quick fusion blast to the chassis, done!

“For the love of Primus, Optimus, hang up!” Prowl yelled from somewhere offscreen. Megatron couldn’t see the security officer, but he certainly agreed with him as he added, “You’re embarrassing all of us!”

“Oh, leave him alone!” a smaller voice yelled, and Megatron noticed a tiny organic was crawling up onto the much larger console. It looked like a human girl, and if he wracked his processor he thought he could recall holding her hostage at some point. Though that was standard for most humans that associated with the Autobots. 

“Just let him ask his question already,” the organic continued. “Optimus, go ahead.”

“Thanks Carly!” Optimus turned back to him once more, optics bright with fondness. “She’s coaching me.”

The warlord looked over his shoulder at Soundwave, just to see if he was still on the correct plane of existence. His friend could only offer him a brief shrug as he was busy trying to wrestle some energon candy away from Rumble, who was screaming loud enough to wake the dead.

“Megatron,” Optimus continued, recapturing his attention, “it might take some work to get all of the energon Starscream’s asking for, but if that’s what you want for a courting gift or payment or whatever, then I’ll get it for you. Anything you want! All I want is to ask you to go to dinner with me.”

He...courting... _what?_

“Dinner?” he asked, distantly aware of how stupid he sounded.

“It’s the human’s word for refueling with one another, followed by conversation and other activity, all with romantic intention underlying the actions.”

Megatron blinked.

“You’re asking me on a date?”

“Yes!”

More laughter sprung up from behind Megatron and damn if he wasn’t going to murder a few people before the night was up. Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately?) Starscream interrupted once more, saving him from his own silence.

“We’ll consider your offer and get back to you, Prime. In the meantime be expecting those little incentives we discussed, yes?” 

“But wait I–!”

Starscream hung up the call before turning to Megatron, arms folded smugly over his cockpit.

“I’ll accept that thanks whenever you’re ready to give it.”

“Thanks? THANKS?”

“You’re welcome!”

“Why you little-!”

He reached out to try and strangle him, only for the red Seeker to dodge him just in time. Starscream hovered a ways in the air and Megatron wasn’t in the mood to have a mid-air fight using his thrusters, so he settled on yelling for the time being. On second thought, he picked up the fallen pointer stick and flung that at Starscream as well.

“Explain yourself!” 

“Don’t you get it by now??” Starscream pointed at his presentation board. “This is the best scheme you’ve ever bumbled your way into!” 

The presentation board, now that he looked at it, had a list of prices on it with actions numbered alongside them. A certain amount of energon for a comm, another amount for a vid-call, more for...cuddling?

“What...what-” 

“Optimus Prime is _helm over pedes_. Totally smitten! And he’s willing to do absolutely anything for you. So, with that in mind, I thought, ‘What does Megatron want more than anything?’ Why, the same thing we all want: energon!”

Megatron spotted the word “kiss” among the listings and decided he wasn’t even going to look at the rest; he was disturbed enough as it was.

Disturbed and fuming.

“Do you mean to tell me,” he said quietly, his frame and struts going taut, “that you’re trying to _pimp me out_ to the Autobot Prime?”

Starscream landed nearby, but still out of immediate reach, and tapped his chin. “Well, pimp is a bit of a strong word, but…”

Megatron lunged and this time was fast enough to grab Starscream by his shoulder pauldrons. He yanked him close until they were face to face and then began violently shaking the seeker. 

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?” he roared.

“Soundwave: objects to this plan.”

“Oh, will you two relax.” Starscream wiggled away and trotted over to peruse Skywarp’s notes. “I know it sounds a bit odd, but think of the benefits for the Decepticon cause! Compared to drilling to the center of the earth, running a smear campaign on the Autobots, or that stupid idea about blowing up the planet–”

“That last one was entirely your doing.”

“Regardless, compared to those schemes, this is simple as can be!”

Starscream gestured to the room at large, where the rest of the traitors were busy either wiping tears of mirth from their optics, or giving their leader _very_ suggestive looks.

“I’ve got it all worked out! The Constructicons are going to set up a little stage for the photoshoot–”

“ _Photoshoot??_ ”

“Yes, so we can make little incentives to send Prime here and there, something to keep him interested. Speaking of which, Skywarp is going to be in charge of your makeover.”

“I’ve got it all planned out,” said the purple mech, waving his datapad.

“Of course we’ll have to pretty you up as best we can,” Starscream continued. “It really is fortunate Prime’s under the influence of that coding right now. He _never_ would have fallen for your ugly old frame when he was sober.”

Now thoroughly insulted, Megatron wasn’t sure if he wanted to stomp out of the room or switch Starscream’s helm with his aft. Luckily for the jet, the door opened just then, drawing Megatron’s attention away from his rage and onto the next life-ruining problem.

Frenzy and Ravage entered the control room, weighed down by large burlap sacks. Ravage had his calmly balanced on his back and dropped it with ease, scampering off to go curl up somewhere, while the red and black minicon was stumbling under the bulk of his own load.

“We got what we could find,” Frenzy announced, dumping his sack on the floor. “Don’t say we never did nothin’ for ya!”

“Yes, yes,” Starscream drawled, tossing the little mech some candy from his subspace and Skywarp opened one of the sacks and started going through its contents.

“Silk, good… I guess we can do something with canvas… Taffeta!?” The purple mech snapped his helm up. “What in the good _fuck_ am I supposed to do with taffeta?? Frenzy, work with me here!”

“Aw, shut it you metal turkey!” Frenzy sucked on his candy as he went to join his brother on Soundwave’s shoulders (the tape deck had given up the fight and Rumble was cheerfully munching on candy as well). “You try finding enough fabric to cover a 20 foot robot in two hours and then you can come glitch to me!”

“Ooh!” Starscream cried as he pulled out something that looked to be made of organic fur and had been dyed in bright colors. He happily draped it over his own shoulders and looked down admiring himself. “This one’s for me!”

Megatron grabbed Starscream by the coat’s lapels and once again yanked the seeker close, glaring into his gleaming red optics.

“If you think for one second that I’m going to agree to go along with this _idiocy–!_ ” 

“Megatron: is not shareware,” Soundwave added heatedly, and the warlord was happy to know at least one of his followers still cared about him.

“I thought you might be resistant,” Starscream interrupted, holding up placating servos. “And I understand why. It can’t be the most comfortable situation. But consider the benefits, Megatron! You heard Prime: he’ll pay whatever we ask! Isn’t all the energon we could want worth a little personal awkwardness?”

Megatron opened and closed his mouth a few times, longing to argue, but realizing that for once his lieutenant actually had a valid point. He still wanted nothing to do with this plan, but if it could get energy for his Decepticons...

“Besides, don’t you think it’d be a bit fun having Optimus Prime at your beck and call? I bet he’d jump off a cliff if you told him to!”

Well, that _was_ an enjoyable image. Still, none of this sat right with him.

“Question,” he said. “What exactly is Thundercracker doing over there?” 

He pointed to where the blue mech was still scribbling so furiously that it looked like he might break his stylus in half at any klick.

Starscream rolled his optics. “He’s our script writer. I told him to hash out some basic stuff for you to follow along with, but he seems to be turning it into a full length saga.”

“I will not compromise my vision!” Thundercracker yelled, looking up for the first time since Megatron had entered the room.

“Why do I need scripts?” Megatron asked. “I’ve been grappling with Prime longer than any of you have, and I can deal with him just fine.”

Starscream had the _gall_ to give him the Condescending Head Tilt and a mocking smile.

“Can you now? Because the last few times you seemed to become rather tongue tied when faced with Prime’s...intimate attentions.”

Oh. Scrap. He’d noticed.

“In fact,” the jet went on, stroking his chin thoughtfully, “one would almost think that the Prime had you rather flustered. Can’t deal with a bit of flirtation, Megatron? Or is it perhaps something else…”

Thundercracker gasped dramatically as he caught onto the insinuation. “Megatron! Do you like Optimus Prime??”

Before the silver mech could defend himself, Skywarp was pointing a digit in his face and cooing, “Oooh, look! He’s running hot! I can see a blush!”

“No wonder you’re so averse to this plan!” Starscream teased. 

“Optimus and Megatron!” yelled Rumble.

“Flying over trees!” yelled Frenzy.

Then in unison they started waving their servos and chanting, “K-I-S-S–!” only to be cut off when Soundwave reached up, took them by their scruffs, and started trying to force them to transform and go back into his chest compartment, causing the two minicons to focus on fighting him off. Megatron made a mental note to take away their TV privileges indefinitely.

Then, very much _not_ blushing, he rounded on the Seeker trio and snapped, “I do not now, nor will I ever feel anything but the deepest hatred for Optimus Prime! And it would give me nothing but pleasure to humiliate him in any way that I can!”

“Then you’ll have no problem with going along with this, will you?” Starscream countered with a smirk.

Damn it. He was pinned. 

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But if you think for one nanoklick that you can use this situation to embarrass me, you’re wrong.”

“Why, Lord Megatron, I wouldn’t _dream_ of it!” 

“Uh huh. Sure. Additionally, you need to remove quite a few things from that board of yours. I’m not letting Prime anywhere near my lips. To say nothing of any _other_ areas.”

“We’ll discuss it,” Starscream said, waving his servo idly. “In the meantime, Skywarp, let’s get down to business!”

Megatron felt his vents hitch as he watched the purple mech pull an electric sander out of his subspace, a feral grin on his faceplates as he switched it on and the device whirred to life. Starscream, wearing the same grin, pulled out a buffing tool, and Thundercracker came over with a bucket of paint.

The things he did for these ungrateful slaggers…

* * *

“How’s it lookin’ Percy?” asked Wheeljack, and the microscope hummed in response.

“This is a rather strange form of coding, indeed. I have no doubt that Jazz’s assessment was correct, and Megatron did not intend for Optimus Prime to fall into his current arduous state. Certainly no self respecting mecha would intentionally write code so sloppy.”

“I thought it looked messy too,” Ratchet concurred. 

“Which means it should be easy to get rid of, right?” Wheeljack looked between the two hopefully.

Perceptor hummed once more, this time sounding negative. “Difficult to say. For while it is messy and simplistic, it’s also somehow rather strong. Almost like a virus.”

“Primus damn it,” Ratchet groaned, resting his head on the table with a sharp _bang_. “Now what?”

Wheeljack gently stroked the mech’s white helm, trying to soothe him. “Hey, it’s okay Sunshine, we’ll figure something for it. Just might take a bit, is all.”

“Don’t call me that,” Ratchet mumbled in response, but he noticeably didn’t stop the petting.

“Oh, that’s interesting.”

Both mechs looked up to see what the microscope was referring to.

“I’ve been examining Optimus’s emotional data levels and comparing them to the scans you made of him during his most recent repair check, Ratchet. Interestingly, the categories typically associated with love and affection don’t seem to have undergone much change. Oh there are alterations, of course, but nothing that would indicate the current extremity we’re witnessing.” 

“So it’s a different part being affected,” Wheeljack surmised.

“It would seem so. But I’m afraid that only complicates our search for a cure even further.”

“Doesn’t help that we can barely get Optimus to keep still,” Ratchet sighed. “Speaking of, the others haven’t sent me an update on his condition in a while; I’m starting to think I should go check on him.”

Wheeljack shrugged. “It hasn’t been that long. What kind of trouble could he get into in less than an hour?”

“OPTIMUS, STOP!”

At the shout, the three bots immediately ran out the door and towards the cry, Perceptor transforming into his root mode as he went. They followed the sound of a skirmish to the operations room where several Autobots were trying desperately to keep Optimus from leaving _The Ark’s_ hangar. Hoist and Grapple, having returned from a supply run, were in their alt-modes and using their crane claws to hold the Prime by his arms and stop him from advancing, while Prowl, Jazz, and the twins stood in front trying to push him back.

“I must say, I never truly realized just how strong he is!” Hoist cried. “It would seem that he’s been holding back around us!”

“I always thought he was such a gentle giant,” Grapple concurred, vocalizer strained as his cable was pulled taut.

“This giant’s _lost_ his gentle!” said Jazz.

“Let go!” Optimus demanded, trying to yank himself free. “I don’t want to hurt any of you, but I need to go get energon!”

“What in the frag is going on?” Ratchet questioned, looking to where Bumblebee was off to the side shielding Carly and Spike in case things went further awry. 

Bumblebee shrugged. “Oh, he’s just trying to escape so he can go collect enough energon to take Megatron on a date because Starscream set up some sort of prostitution racket. And we’re having a hard time holding him back because Ironhide’s the only one close to his strength and he’s passed out drunk after Chromia dumped him for Elita One.”

Ratchet blinked before turning to Wheeljack.

“ _That’s_ what they could get up to in an hour.”

The medic then stomped over to the Prime and gave him a vicious punch in his abdominal vents. Optimus faltered slightly, which was just enough for Grapple and Hoist to to yank him hard and send him crashing backwards onto his aft. Optimus recovered quickly and started trying to get up.

“Stop, I–”

“Optimus!” Ratchet shouted, cutting him off. The white mech stomped over to where the Prime was now sitting and proceeded to shock everyone in the room by slapping him across the face. The sound of metal on metal rung out through the room. He then grabbed Optimus by his audial fins to hold his helm still as he looked him hard in the optics.

“Get a hold of yourself, damn it!” The medic snapped. “I don’t care what kind of code you’re under or what you think you feel. The Optimus Prime I know wouldn’t be pulling scrap like this. So either shape up or I will will forcibly put you into stasis until I’m sure that you’ve gotten yourself under control.”

“Ratchet, please!” Optimus begged, his vocalizer starting to crackle with desperation as he placed his servos over his spark. “I need to be with him so badly!”

The medic shook his head. “No, you do not. You don’t love him, Optimus.”

“Yes I–”

“No, you don’t. And I’ll tell you what’s more: Megatron doesn’t give one damn about you either.”

Optimus’s optics widened slightly before shuttering completely.

“Yes he does,” he argued weakly

“He does not,” Ratchet argued back, keeping his tone level but firm. “He only cares about you as far as what you can do for him. Besides that you’re just his enemy and he’d sooner kill you than kiss you.”

“You don’t understand.” Optimus pushed Ratchet’s servos away, then hugged his knees to his chassis. “None of you understand.”

“He’s right Prime,” Prowl sighed, happy to finally have some assistance. “Megatron hates you.”

Optimus covered his audials. “He does not. Not really.”

“I’m pretty sure he does,” said Sunstreaker.

“No, yeah, he completely hates you,” Sideswipe agreed. “I mean you heard how the other Decepticons were laughing at the whole thing — this is just a joke to them.”

Ratchet rested a servo atop the large mech’s helm as he gently said, “And these imaginary feelings of yours are the punchline, Optimus.” 

The Prime was now staring at the floor, trembling under the weight of their words, looking like he might come apart at any moment. Seeing the normally calm, caring figure so upset, the two humans in the room couldn’t help but feel pangs of sympathy.

“Maybe lighten up a little, fellas,” Spike said softly.

Carly nodded. “Coding or not, it’s real to him, and you’re breaking his heart right now.”

Ratchet was going to point out that technically speaking Cybertronians didn’t _have_ hearts, but cut himself off when Jazz walked over and hugged Optimus gently around his neck cables. 

“Hey there, boss-bot. We know it’s hard. We just don’t want to see you get hurt any worse, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Bumblebee chimed in, coming to join in hugging their leader. “Don’t feel so bad, Optimus. You’re a great mech! I’m sure half the galaxy would want to date you if we put you out there.”

“More than half!” Hoist agreed, now in his root mode.

Optimus wasn’t listening, though. He was still looking down, dejected, and when he peered closer Ratchet could see a coolant tear roll down to disappear behind the battle mask. 

The medic sighed at the sight. He didn’t feel good about what he’d said; Optimus was one of his oldest friends, and he’d never wish to hurt him. But sometimes you had to break a mech’s spark to save it, so to speak.

The white mech slowly reached out and gave what he hoped was a comforting pat to the blue helm.

“There, there,” he said awkwardly; he’d never been the best at the physical affection thing. “Don’t cry about it – Megatron isn’t worth much and he for sure isn’t worth tears. It’s all going to be just fine. We’ll get you through this. Hey, I bet some high-grade would cheer you up!”

“Ironhide drank it all,” Sideswipe interrupted.

“Well that’s okay, we’ll just– _All_ of it??”

“All except Grapple’s private collection,” said Hoist.

“And I’m _not_ sharing,” the yellow crane sniffed, crossing his arms.

A small argument ensued about the irresponsibility of letting a depressed mech consume that much high grade at once, and whether or not it was fair to keep private stores of alcoholic fuel when it was already difficult to get a hold of, and the people hugging Optimus left him to put in their two cents. Some rather personal words were exchanged and suddenly there was quite a bit of shouting echoing in the room. Despite the noise, Optimus didn’t really hear the argument — even though it was happening right next to him, it felt like he was somewhere far away. He felt lost, cold tendrils of sadness and fear the only things keeping him grounded.

He knew there was some truth to what his friends were saying but… But the feeling he got when he and Megatron were together, the way the grey mech got tongue tied and blushed at his advances… Surely that wasn’t nothing. Surely it wasn’t _all_ just the ray gun deluding him, he argued to himself. But it was a flimsy argument, with little backing, and even his own addled processor could see that.

If only he could have something solid to tell him what was what. If only Megatron could give him a clear sign… 

**_Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrzzz._ **

A mechanical buzzing sound awoke him from his trance. and Optimus looked over to see that Teletraan’s rarely used printer was at work. While the others continued to argue, unaware, he scooted over a bit and waited as the computer fed a few glossy pieces of paper into his servos. The prime quickly noticed a Decepticon insignia was printed on the back of the sheets. 

Oh yeah, hadn’t Starscream mentioned something about ‘incentives’? He hadn’t quite been sure what that had meant though, and hadn’t dwelt on it at the time as he’d been too distracted by the lack of Megatron's presence. Curious, he turned the stack over–

And promptly froze, all except his audial fins which shot up straight and alert. 

Bumblebee was the first to notice that Optimus had shifted from his depressed position, and went to go check on the Prime.

“Hey Optimus, you feeling any better? Whatcha lookin’ at – OH SWEET PRIMUS!”

That got the attention of the others who quickly crowded around to look at what their Prime was holding, and at the sight there were gasps, groans, and perhaps a whistle or two. 

Optimus ignored all of it. He was busy staring at photos of Megatron.

Specifically, he was staring at photos of Megatron, newly painted and polished, wearing a strapless red dress made of what appeared to be silk. The fabric was form fitting around the torso, hugging the warmech’s little waist before flowing loosely outward around his legs. The pictures also showed him lying in various positions. In one he was standing in a regal pose, another he was kneeling demurely, and in another he was lying on his back, legs bent at the knee, his helm falling over the edge of the little stage he was on so that he was looking at the camera upside down, lips and dentae parted slightly. Optimus’s favorite was one where Megatron was sitting with his legs stretched to the side, showing off a slit in the skirt that ran up to his hip, leaving a silver thigh bared to the world. 

__

_Sweet Primus that was sexy._

But what really got him was the expression Megatron was wearing. He seemed to be trying to act aloof, but failing. Optimus could see a slight redness in the cheek plates, the way he was having a hard time looking the camera dead on. And when he was looking there was something else in his optics, something he was trying to hold back.

_Want._

“Sweet Solus Prime!” Prowl exclaimed, pulling one of the photos out of Optimus’s hands to gawk at it. “I can’t believe he had the nerve to send this scrap!”

“Well, Megatron’s never exactly been humble,” Ratchet muttered as he too gawked, not wanting to look but also not being able to look away. 

“Hey what is it?” Spike asked, too low to the ground to see what was happening. Prowl lowered the photo then so he and Carly could see, and Spike’s jaw dropped before he curled his face in an expression of disgust. 

“Oh my GOD!”

Carly, unfazed, gave a low whistle. “Dang! He looks like one of those old pin-up girls! Pin-up bots? Well whatever the case, he should wear skirts more, they suit him.” 

“I’ll say!” Sideswipe exclaimed, revving his engine. His brother looked at him with disgust.

“Sides, c’mon, he’s our worst enemy!”

“So? You can hate somebody and still think they’re a hot piece of metal. Hey, do you think they’ll do this with any of the other ‘Cons? I wouldn’t mind a shot of Skywarp all spread out–”

“SIDES!”

“WHAT? He has nice wings!”

Jazz chuckled at the suggestion. “Oh mech, that’d be a time. Imagine Soundwave posing like that!”

“I’d rather not,” Prowl grumbled. “I take it this is part of Starscream’s new racket. As if anyone would go for this!”

“I don’t know, Prowler.” Jazz pointed to draw Prowl’s attention. “It seems to be working on somebody…”

Prowl looked in time to see a puff of smoke shoot out of Optimus’s smokestacks, his frame letting out a mechanical whistle, and his faceplates visibly running red hot. 

Uh oh.

“Optimus, wait–”

“Hey, what are those little symbols written on some of the pictures?” Bumblebee asked, showing them to Spike and Carly. “They look like your human letters.”

“Eww,” Spike groaned at the sight, pressing his palms to his eyes.

“Aww!” Carly exclaimed, ignoring her friend. “X’s and O’s! They stand for hugs and kisses!”

The human girl looked up and raised her voice to say, “He sent you kisses, Optimus!”

That did it.

One klick, Optimus was standing there, still frozen. The next, he had transformed into truck mode, engine revving hard, speeding out of _The Ark’s_ hangar. Prowl and Sunstreaker had to jump to avoid being clipped, not daring to try and match the truck’s weight and motor power.

“Well, scrap,” Wheeljack summarized as they all watched their Prime roar off into the distance. “Do we follow him or…?”

“I don’t know,” Ratchet groaned, shaking his helm. He sat on the floor, defeated. “I just don’t know anymore.”

* * *

“Are we done yet?” Megatron groaned from his place on the floor. He’d been sanded, buffed, painted, and polished until he wasn’t sure any of his original metal was left, and then forced to get in these incredibly embarrassing poses, and frankly he was one more stressor away from offlining himself. It didn’t help that Starscream had forced him to put away his fusion cannon, making him feel naked despite the fabric he was wrapped in.

“Quit asking and we might be!” the red menace chastised, adjusting the fur coat he was _still_ wearing.

Rip his optics out and feed them to him. Yes, that was good, Megatron thought, as he added that to the growing list of new ways he would torture his lieutenant once all of this was over.

“You’re looking beautiful, hon’,” Reflector praised as Skywarp moved him around in camera form. “Chin a little higher, there we go, gorgeous baby!”

“Those compliments had better not be sarcastic,” Megatron sighed before dutifully following directions. At least Reflector’s behavior was professional enough (though he could live without the excessive praise). And even if it felt silly, the camera was right — he did look good. The Constructicons had even given him a few wolf whistles earlier before Starscream cursed them off the set. 

“I never lie to my subjects. Hey Sky, raise me a little higher. There we are.” He clicked a few more pictures, then transformed into his root mode. “Okay Megatron, take a break now, you’ve earned it!”

“I’ll say,” the silver mech sighed, collapsing on the floor. “Can I take the fabric off now?”

Reflector tilted his head to the side. “I don’t know, Lord Megatron… I mean you’re good, but do you really want to do a nude photoshoot this early in your career?”

Megatron blinked at the camera mech. “Reflector. I don’t normally _wear_ clothes.” 

“Ah, good point. Well, we’ll talk about it.”

“Talk nothing,” he groaned, rolling his helm to the side to look away. “I’m done. It’s late, I’m tired, and I want to recharge before this day can get any worse.”

“Now Megatron,” Starscream simpered, “we’re not finished yet! We haven’t gotten to the most important part. Speaking of nude–”

Megatron snapped his helm to the side, optics flaming. 

“I am _not_ opening my panels for this scrap!”

“Oh come on!” Starscream whined. “First you won’t take off that ugly helmet–”

“This helmet is from my days in the Tarnian mines, a representation of my humble history and how far I’ve come in my quest for–”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever; first you won’t take off your _fucking ugly helmet_ and now you won’t even do an upskirt shot? It’s as if you don’t care about this plan succeeding at all!”

Starscream squatted down and reached for Megatron’s legs, grabbing him by the knees. 

“Just give us something to work with, will you?” he grunted, trying to force the warlord’s legs apart.

“Stop!” Megatron snapped, clamping his thighs together. He pushed at Starscream’s face, and was slightly relieved when Soundwave appeared and started pulling on the Seeker’s wings to help get him off. Unfortunately, Starscream was latched on and it became an odd sort of tug-of-war. 

“I’m not spreading my legs for you, Starscream!”

“Uhhhh…?”

The warlord and his two chief officers turned their helms to see that, during the little scuffle, the communications monitor had switched on without their noticing and Dead End was looking at them with an understandably confused expression. 

“Are you guys...busy?” the Stunticon asked hesitantly

Megatron took advantage of the lull to kick Starscream in the face, sending the jet careening back, crashing into Soundwave on his way. The two started tugging on and smacking each other, both thoroughly irritated about the other’s attitude over the day’s proceedings. Megatron decided to ignore them, got to his pedes and moved over to the screen.

“Not busy at all. Go on.”

“Uh, okay. Nice dress, by the way. Anyhow, I’m calling because we’re guarding the space bridge like you asked us to, and we’ve got kind of a weird situation happening over here.”

The screen switched to show a surveillance angle of the space bridge, and Megatron could see Motormaster and the other Stunticons and–

Optimus Prime.

Damn it all.

“Don’t engage with him. Just let him do what he wants for now, and I’ll be there shortly.” He shrugged out of the dress, just missing the way Dead End blushed at the sight before he switched off the call.

“I need to go check on something,” he announced to his Second and Third in Command, who were still grappling on the floor. He kept it intentionally vague in the hopes no one would ask to accompany him. Luckily, his hopes were fulfilled.

Before leaving the base, he took a brief detour to his suite. To his dismay and confusion, the destabilizing ray was not where he’d thrown it on the floor earlier. He scanned the room, even checking the washracks to be thorough, but was still unable to locate the device.

Odd.

He commed Soundwave, asking him to check if Ratbat or Ravage might have run off with it, as both were known to occasionally hoard things. He added a note of urgency to the message as well; from what he could tell, the Autobots were yet to work out a cure for their Prime. If he wanted to get out of this predicament before things truly got out of hand, he’d have to take care of things himself.

* * *

A short flight later, Megatron landed at the edge of the space bridge’s site, just as the sun was setting into twilight and sending the sky into a golden orange. The warmech gave an exhausted sigh as he took in the sight of Optimus Prime, in truck form, steadily using a mechanical arm to unload cubes of energon from his trailer. The Stunticons were standing around watching the display, understandably confused and unsure how to proceed. 

Megatron made his way over, and he knew the second Optimus spotted him because the trucks headlights flickered, and his engines revved hard. With the energon finally unloaded, the Prime shifted into root mode and dashed over. A sudden wave of nervousness washed over Megatron as the mech neared, and he held up a hand to hold him off. Optimus slowed his pace and stood at a respectful distance, but his gaze was no less intense.

“Hello,” he vented, and oh that damned _voice._

“What now, Prime?” grunted the warmech. “What is all this?”

Optimus gestured to the pile of cubes. “Payment! I would have brought it to your base but you're out in the ocean, so I figured this would have to do."

Megatron stared at the pile.

"Where and how did you get all of that?"

The Prime shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

Well damn it, now he was definitely worried about it. And, taking a second glance at the pile, he could see that it was definitely more than Starscream had been trying to charge for a kiss...

"I was hoping this would be enough to pay for a date," Optimus explained, as if sensing his silent question. After 4 million years of opposition and learning to predict each other’s moves, they’d both grown adept at sensing the other’s thoughts. "Honestly, I don't know anything about this incentives business or whatever – I kind of got the sense this was more Starscream’s idea than it was yours – but if energon is a gift that will make you happy, then I'll get you as much as you want!"

Slowly, carefully, a blue servo reached out to touch Megatron's black one. The gray mech stiffened and felt his face flush, but refused to cower from so simple a gesture, and so allowed the Prime to take his servo in both of his own.

"I saw the photos you sent," he murmured almost shyly, rubbing a thumb along his wrist. "And the little marks...Carly told me they mean...well...that they're Earth symbols of physical affection."

Oh frag, _that_ was what they meant? Damn it, why did he let Rumble and Frenzy _do_ things?

While he was busy renewing his hatred for life in general (and making a note to take those markers away from the minicons), Optimus was bashfully toeing the ground. 

"I was kind of worried, that you...well that you might not feel the same. But seeing that…" 

He tilted his gaze up enough that Megatron could see those bright blue optics, and a pang spread through his spark.

"Seeing that made me think that you might actually-"

"Fine," he interrupted, knowing where this was going and not wanting to hear it said out loud.

Optimus blinked, confused. "Huh?"

Megatron rolled his eyes and pulled his servo away, crossing his arms over his chassis.

"I said 'fine.' I'll go on this little _date_ with you. The energon you’ve brought is appreciated and it’s only proper for me to reciprocate the gesture."

Only for the energon, he reminded himself. For that and for the Decepticons. Those were the only reasons.

He was torn from the thought when suddenly Optimus grabbed his servo once more, optics as bright as stars. Megatron felt a hitch in his vents when he saw the battle mask retract and he dipped his helm to place a kiss to the back of Megatron's servo. He then trailed up, pressing kisses to his wrist, his forearm, his elbow joint _and sweet Primus his face felt like it might melt off if he went any farther-!_

“Stop!” He yanked his arm away, leaving the Prime with his lips puckered mid-kiss. Optimus looked up at him, surprised, then quickly shifted to apologetic. The battle mask snapped back into place and he move a few steps away, dipping his helm in apology.

“Sorry, sorry! We’re not there yet, I get it, sorry!” he apologized profusely, and oh but wasn’t he sweet and cute when it was his turn to be the flustered one?

Megatron gritted his dentae at the errant thought. Damn it, damn it, _damn it_. 

Still, the Prime looked rather awkward and uneasy now, and if he had to go through with this ‘date’ situation, that meant he’d likely have to become a bit more comfortable with these little intimacies. Comfortable, and prepared to counter.

He could almost hear Starscream's demands ringing in his audials - " _Give me something to work with! Play it up more!"_

Yes. Right. This was a game. He needed to play along.

Megatron straightened his back strut and stepped forward. Optimus took notice and held still, for once allowing him room to make the next move. Megatron reached and up and tapped the metallic mask lightly, and Optimus obeyed the signal and retracted it. The warlord watched as the face plates twitched and shifted with emotion - hesitance, eagerness, mirth, fear - clearly unused to having to train his expressions.

"I look forward to our... _date_ ," Megatron said evenly. Then, taking Optimus by the chin, he tilted the other's helm slightly to press a quick kiss to the marred cheek.

Optimus stood stock still, apparently absorbing what just happened. Then, without warning, he was scooping Megatron up in a hug and swinging him around, causing the warlord to shout in surprise. 

"AUGH! Prime, what are you doing???"

"I love you, I love you, _I love you!"_ Optimus shouted, loud enough for the Stunticons to overhear and look at each other with a mix of confusion and horror. 

Hot with embarrassment (and _certainly_ nothing else) Megatron smacked at Optimus’s back. “Put me down, you overzealous fool!”

Optimus obeyed the order, but continued smiling as brightly as the stars that were now starting to peek out above them.

"I promise, you'll have the best time ever!" Optimus exclaimed. "I'll take care of everything, don't you worry!"

Megatron searched for a response but found that he had none. The Prime’s new found ability to rob him of his glyphs was becoming quite tiresome.

He settled on a simple nod. “Very well.”

"Great!” Optimus beamed. “I’d better get back to the Ark, but I’ll send you all the details tomorrow!”

And with that Optimus took off in his truck form, happily roaring away into the moonlit evening while honking with excitement.

Megatron shook his helm and murmured, “Primus, I’m in trouble.”

He was just playing along though, he reminded himself as he went to explain things to the Stunticons, who were still woefully out of the loop and now more confused than ever. 

Just playing. That was all it was, nothing more.

He kept reminding himself of that fact even after he could no longer sense the rough feeling of scarred metal on his lip, or warm arms wrapped around him.

* * *

Back in the Decepticon base, Soundwave was interrogating his cassettes to find out if any of them had taken the ray gun. All claimed innocence, and he was inclined to believe them, but that left the question of where the gun had gotten to.

Unbeknownst to him, Megatron, or anyone else, a certain red Seeker had retreated to his quarters for the time being and was currently tinkering with the device.

"Megatron's hoping this will be over soon, I can tell. Big wimp," he muttered to himself. "Can't go along with a bit of acting. Well, he'd best get used to it."

After struggling for so long at this mossball of a planet, he wasn't going to let this chance slip through their servos. No, he was going to make sure that these effects became permanent.

* * *

**Updated to add the beautiful Megatron[art](https://baebeyza.tumblr.com/post/624734639738814464/okay-so-iamtypinglike98madmens-fanfic-got) by [Baebeyza](https://baebeyza.tumblr.com/)!!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friend, after I showed her this chapter: I can't believe Megatron is a cambot!  
> I hope everyone enjoys cambot Megatron and Pimpscream, because I had fun writing them. Honestly I had fun writing most of this chapter!
> 
> So yeah this suddenly got some plot, but hopefully that's okay. It's still gonna be wacky times just with some emotion as well.


End file.
